


Home Alone: Revenge of the Sith

by Its_not_tentacle_porn_shut_up_Joscelin



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anakin Skywalker is a dumbass, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, No Younglings Were Harmed in the Making of this Fanfic, Sith Anakin Skywalker, i love him but he is, inspired by a tumblr post, ish, this is patently ridiculous but it was fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:53:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23522620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Its_not_tentacle_porn_shut_up_Joscelin/pseuds/Its_not_tentacle_porn_shut_up_Joscelin
Summary: What it says on the tin — the Jedi younglings take a page out of  Kevin McCallister’s book to defend the Jedi Temple from the clones and Darth Vader. (This is happy goofiness, no children die or are injured)
Relationships: Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker (mentioned)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 102





	Home Alone: Revenge of the Sith

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this tumblr post https://lovely-young-bones.tumblr.com/post/614695236854267904/prodigalsonoflaufey-i-think-you-know-what-im 
> 
> This work, as always, is unbetaed and all mistakes are my own. Also, per usual, this was written for shits and giggles and little more, so I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> P.S. AO3 decided to fuck with some of my formatting so I apologize if italics or bolding is a little weird, I’ll probably try to fix it later

There was not the time or the resources for a full, covert evacuation of the Temple, but there was time. In a building full of several hundred force users, no one could miss the sudden screaming in the Force that not only indicated the sudden deaths of their thousands of deployed brethren, but also the warning saying that if they did not act, did not  𝘳𝘶𝘯 , they would be next. So the masters and the workers that remained in the temple, the few healers and wounded knights and masters who were there, and the elders scrambled to escape with their youngest from the crèche. The babes and toddlers who were crying as they felt the shouting discord of the Jedi being killed without understanding, or mental shields against it. They were spirited away with the too wounded to fight and the too old to stand their ground — into the lower levels and out through civilian crafts, onto hotwired public transport, and away through shadowed alleys and service hatches. Lightsabers hidden, braids cut, and tabbards left behind as the able fighters led them to safety. 

But the younglings too old to still be in the crèche, and too young to be out in the field as either iniates or junior padawans, remained. They were too many to leave without drawing attention, and unskilled enough to use the Force to hide or to fight making them better off hiding in the temple, minding themselves as they waited for the darkness to reach them. 

But there is one very important word in the phrase “taking out the Jedi younglings”, and it is not, as most would assume, the word  𝘑𝘦𝘥𝘪 . It is  𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 . 

— 

When Vader, because he was very much Darth Vader, Sith Apprentice at this moment, stormed through the doors of the Jedi Temple with the eerily focused 501st at his back, he found only silent, abandoned halls. 

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 ’ 𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 ,  𝘤𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘴 ,  𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 . 

It began soon after he’d ordered his troops to fan out. Vader was headed to the northern spire, where any remaining council members would have gathered and the place considered to be the highest seat of the Jedi’s power, while his 501st began searching the other wings and lower levels — it took only a few minutes for the comm channels to slowly build to a roar of reports. 

Riptide Company lost three men upon entering the Halls of Healing, and with a crackle of the comm lost their commanding officer and his squad only a few moments later. The last sound heard before the channel cut off was the Captain yelling “What the kri-“ and a noise not unlike the laughter of a child in the distance. 

Fifteen minutes and Downpour, Glacier, and Onslaught Companies had all faced similar fates, each comm channel and tracker signal blinking out one, two, and three at a time the further they went into the darkened Temple. The men, single minded under the thrall of Order 66, were unbothered beyond the frustration at their apparent failures and hightened vigilance under the threat of an unknown enemy with unknown tactics. 

Vader, on the other hand, was beginning to feel the icy grip of fear. The 501st were some of the best and most highly trained clone troopers in the Republic, but unit by unit, man by man, they were being picked off with very little indication as to how. The distant sound of squeals or laughter, the occasional warning noise of something being ignited or dropped, but always only seconds before the comma were shut down. The young Sith would never admit to the way the shadows in the Temple that was once his home began to stretch and twist in his peripherals the deeper he went — fear was weakness, and was only useful for turning into anger, which could then become power in the darkside. 

𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘴 . 

He’d made it to the base of the spire before Torrent, his personal Company, was targeted. The five troopers gaurding their backs as they marched through the Temple, breaking down doors to the meditation rooms and private quarters they passed, were the first to go. 

It was barely a prickling of warning in the Force before Vader halted their progress and whirled to look behind them — only to find a single blaster dropped on the stone floor, and nothing else but a faint cross breeze to indicate the five clones had been there at all. 

A check of the surrounding rooms only led to three more men down — each suddenly unconscious after walking into on the rooms off the hall, laid on their fronts like they hadn’t even seen what had downed them. 

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘴 ,  𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 . 

Vader did not say why, exactly, he chose to ignite his saber and illuminate their path with it after that. His men did not question it. They did not question his sudden order for two of them to begin scouting ahead of the main group either (even if that proved futile after the third group of scouts disappeared with a faint flash of light and a cut off shout). 

By the time he reached the top of the spire, and stood outside the council doors he so often agonized over entering, Vader was alone, and wondering what secret Force magicks the Jedi had harnessed to defend their Temple (and when they would come for  𝘩𝘪𝘮 ). 

Those thoughts were abandoned when he heard the scared cry of the single person in the entire galaxy who could  𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸 . 

“Anakin! Anakin help me!” His wife called out from behind the council doors, but he couldn’t  𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 her, he couldn’t feel her in the Force,  𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘦́ 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 ?! 

Vader rushes through the council doors without another though, skidding to a stop in the center of ( 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘺 ,  𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘺 ?  𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 ?) room. Too late, he registers the small comm unit sitting on the floor, playing the same audio recording again and again on a thirty second timer. “Anakin” the little comm shouts in his wife’s voice, “Anakin help me!”. Too late, Vader recognizes the clip from the released footage of the Senate hostage crisis two years ago. 

Too late, Vader looks up to the meet the eyes of a determined eleven year old as they flip the switch on a rayshield. 

𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴 ,  𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝙅𝙚𝙙𝙞 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴 \-  𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 . 

— 

After the short lived Empire (it is probably a Galactic record, an empire lasting less than a full day) is toppled by the remaining Jedi and liberated Red Gaurd, and the corrupt Senators scurry to their homeworlds while the honest ones begin the arduous task of fixing a twice broken government, the Knights and Masters return to the Temple to a very interesting sight. 

Dozens of clone troopers, all marked with the distinctive 501st blue, have been neatly piled on the front steps. Some are hog tied with various materials ranging from sliced curtains to braided and glittering craft string, others are encased in layers of sticky, viscous slime that seems to thicken the harder they struggle in it (one particular ginger haired Jedi Master comments on the ingenuity of using stress relief putty as a restraint, and how the shimmering pink color of it quite suits them), and a noteable few have been shrink wrapped together like so many ration bars. To a one, their wrist comms and helmet transceivers have been precisely destroyed with the signature marks of a jury-rigged training saber set to a higher setting than it was built for. 

When asked later how they managed to incapacitate not only a full battalion of soldiers but also a Sith apprentice, they answer that it was little different from luring a stray tooka into a box propped with a stick — you merely need the right bait. 


End file.
